Introspect
by Peaches Naughty Cream
Summary: In which Arnold hasn't seen Helga in a few years, i.e: middle school, and re-meets her Junior year. Helga seems to have calmed down quite a bit, gained some hard earned confidence, and acquired a funky fashion sense. Arnold seems to find himself inexplicably attracted to this version enchanting new Helga; whom might not be so new at all.


**Summary: **In which Arnold hasn't seen Helga in a few years, i.e: middle school, and re-meets her Junior year. Helga seems to have calmed down quite a bit, gained some hard earned confidence, and acquired a funky fashion sense. Arnold seems to find himself inexplicably attracted to this version enchanting new Helga; whom might not be so new at all.

**A/N:** Helga Pataki is hands down my favorite character from Hey Arnold, other than Arnold himself. She's probably one of my favorite characters period, and she's damn sure one of the most intelligent. Just look at how articulate, insightful, intelligent, and independent she was at nine years old. I mean, seriously, props should be given to her intellect. As for Arnold, well, I shouldn't need to explain why I like him. Arnold's just, he's really likable, but he's not dull. He just seems like he'd be interesting to be around. Anyways, onwards!

**Warnings:** This story may contain content deemed objectionable to some parties. Including; foul language, underage drinking, drug use, alcohol abuse, sexual content tones and/or language, text messages and colorful fauxhawks. You have been warned.

* * *

Introspect

Chapter One: "She's Got Style"

"_You might think I'm incapable_

_of loving a soul like yours_

_you might think I'm a fool_

_For you._

_'Cuz girl you've got style,_

_and that's what I love about you."_

"She's Got Style"- NeverShoutNever

* * *

"Oh god," Rhonda rolls her eyes, smirking and directing her gaze towards someone Arnold can't see yet. "Look who's back."

Arnold peeks around Rhonda, expecting Nadine, as the two had a nasty fight the previous year before Nadine supposedly transferred schools. Instead, he caught the back of someone, though still distinctly female, with rather interesting attire. What had peaked his interest at first was the plaid pink skinny jeans, followed by the white tank top, the kind that scoops down under the arms to the waist, and a beanie sloped low with black and hot pink stripes. He can clearly see the lacy pink bra, and a black hoodie simply slung over her shoulder and drafting around her slender waist. Her hips are fairly round, moving smoothly and subtly to her shapely rear and long legs. He notices the black combat boots, which the plaid skinny jeans are almost artfully tucked into. Next to the girl, well, in front of her in a way, is Phoebe Heyerdahl, who looks rather boring in comparison.

The girl turns enough for him to see her face. Not by any means delicate, but still feminine, and interesting in its composure. Her hair is short, mostly tucked under her beanie, with her bangs falling into her bright blue eyes. He's shocked that her hair is a golden blonde, with thick, but carefully defined eyebrows of a darker shade of blonde. She's wearing a smirk that exudes confidence, but she's obviously very friendly towards Phoebe, and it's with a slight shock that he recognizes her as Helga Pataki.

Rhonda makes a crack about Helga's boots and tank-top, which Lila very softly chastises her for. Arnold is a little too struck with Helga's appearance to notice. He hasn't seen her since Middle School, and this is a very drastic change from her deliberately girly dresses and long hair. She was always trying to make up for her supposed lack of femininity that she never seemed to grow comfortable with herself. Arnold think she's found the right balance between her innate tomboyishness and her girly side. Although, he does miss the pigtails a bit.

Gerald pops up next to Phoebe, trying to say hello to Helga while simultaneously flirting with Phoebe and trying to wrap his arm around her. Arnold is prepared to enjoy the rare moment of Gerald loosing his cool, when his eternally laid back friend waves him over with a cocky smirk of his own. "Hey, Arnold!"

Arnold waves back sheepishly, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans, wondering if he should have adjusted his red plaid shirt before walking over. The sleeves are a little past his elbows now, and they're staring to bother him. Still, he reaches up to respond to Gerald's high five, shifting himself so that he's standing just a bit closer to Helga than necessary. She gives him a lazy sort of smirk that _really_ shouldn't make him feel flustered, and says with a sort of unexpected tenderness and, friendliness, "Long time no see, huh, Football Head?"

"Yeah," he smiles at her, noticing the skateboard held roughly by the front two wheels. He sees that the tank-top isn't plain white, it has "The Sex Pistols" in a black and grey mock graffiti print splashed across the front.

Her posture is a lot more relaxed than he remembers it being. Back straight, but comfortably so, shoulders not as tense as they always were, just barely leaning on the skateboard. She seems calm, peaceful even. She's actually talking calmly with Gerald, something that rarely happened before. Arnold just sort of lets himself slip into the background, figuratively at least, and watches her. She seems much more sure of herself than he's ever seen her, and a lot sexier than he remembers. Granted, it could just be the usual teenage hormones, but dear god he's sure he's never seen legs that long, hips so round and touchable, not to mention the full swell of her breast-

He blinks, surprised by himself. He's never been quite so susceptible to the typical teenage leering, but it's a bit difficult for him to _not_ stare at Helga. She's so, well, he's not sure which word to use exactly.

He's finally distracted by her body because she pulls out a pack of cigarettes, playing with it, before asking if anyone's allergic to them. Phoebe shrugs, and Gerald asks if he can bum one. Helga complies. Arnold generally doesn't like girls who smoke, but something about the way she places it so carefully and yet carelessly between her lips and lights it catches his attention. The little pull of her mouth when she inhales, the confident smirk when she exhales and laughs a little at Gerald's joke. Everything she does is sort of, intriguing.

She looks over at Arnold, bright blue eyes enhanced by the barest amounts of black eyeliner around the edges of her lids, "So, Football Head, what's new?"

He shrugs, "Not much, really. Where've you been, anyways?"

Helga grins, the smoke curling out of her mouth and around her face in delicate swirls and alarmingly intricate patterns, "Miriam and Bob thought I should spend some time living with Olga. Oddly enough, it actually helped. A lot."

Arnold nods, eyes still locked on her mouth while she lets the cigarette simply dangle there, "Well that's good. So are you staying or going back to Olga?"

She shakes her head, "Nah," she gives him a sheepish grin and nudges him playfully, "You're not getting rid of me quite yet, Football Head." He chuckles, and she gives him this smile that stops his heart for a split second. She stares at him, and says slowly, "I think it's time I came up with a new nickname for you."

"Oh," he grins at her, and notices the faint blush while she smirks back.

"Yeah, Football Head's still a goldie, but it's a bit tired for everyday use." She shifts so that her hip's almost touching his, "Don't worry, I'll come up with something."

It's almost disturbing how, even though she isn't even touching him, he can still feel the heat coming off her, and he's still a little dizzy from the scent of her. She smells like apples, cinnamon, and something crisp and fresh. He tries to gather his thoughts a bit better, but he can't really focus when she's so close to him. It's odd being around Helga like this, having her standing next to him so casually, with light, friendly and somewhat flirty clever quips instead of her usual verbal assaults.

She mentions, with the tiniest smile, that she's made friends with Brainy and Curly recently. The former is currently attending the school Helga had been at the previous year, the later still within Hillwood. Arnold's a little shocked that Curly had become friends with Helga. He sees the boy quite often, as Curly is still fond of Rhonda, and has never even heard him mention Helga. Then again, Curly's always been one to keep things to himself. He's a bit of a loner in that respect.

She nudges him, the soft, warm skin brushing against his own bared forearm and sending him into the tiniest tizzy. Something about her is making him acutely aware of his surroundings, of her in particular. Gerald has taken notice as well. He sends Arnold a knowing smirk, and Arnold simply shrugs and grins in response.

"Well," Helga yawns, stretching her arms above her head and leaning back just so her tank top grazes above the hem of her jeans and exposes the tiniest sliver of her abdomen, "let's get something to eat. I am fucking _starving_."

Phoebe chuckles, Gerald draping his arm over her while he makes a suggestion, "We could go to that new pizza place, see what all the hype is about."

"Yeah, that sounds good," Arnold nods, letting Gerald lead the way with Phoebe.

Gerald keeps his arm around Phoebe, which she doesn't seem to mind, and while the two chat idly Arnold hangs back with Helga. She sighs, lifting up her skateboard and resting it across her shoulders, hooking her arms over it. "So," she drawls, and Arnold can't help but grin at her, "what's new?"

He tells her about Curly's endless pursuit of Rhonda, Nadine moving to a new city, Stinky moving back to the country in middle school and coming back freshman year. He talks about Sid's blossoming interest in psychology, and Harold's newfound love of cars. She asks a couple questions, mainly about Gerald, Phoebe, and himself. He stops when she asks if Gerald likes Phoebe. "Isn't it kind of obvious?" He teases, and she laughs, "I mean, he's _always_ trying to be so suave with her."

"Yeah, it's nauseating, yet adorable." She says almost wistfully, "Anyways, while we're on the subject, any special ladies in your life?" She winks, and he stammers a bit, almost blushing.

"A few," he admits modestly.

"Arnold, we're not nine, I think I can handle it," she's joking, but there's something he can't quite place underlining her tone.

"Well," he stops, figuring he may as well only tell her about the girls he actually dated, "I was with Nancy for most of Freshman year."

She raises an eyebrow, "Nancy?"

"You don't know her, she didn't go to PS 118." Helga chuckles, and he grins.

"Let me guess, red-head, really sweet at first but turns out to be passive aggressively bitchy, wears a lot of girly dresses?" Helga smirks when she guesses, nudging him playfully, and he gives her a smile that borders on rueful.

"Yeah," he admits sheepishly, "I didn't really get out of the red-head thing until Bebe."

Helga quirks an eyebrow, "Blonde?"

He shakes his head, "I don't even know, she dyes her hair a lot."

"Okay," she yawns, shifting her skateboard a bit, "who else?"

"Well," he stops to think, not sure if he should count Lacey, as they dated for about two weeks. He decides he may as well, "Lacey, a brunette, right after Nancy at the end of Freshman year; Rachel, strawberry blonde, my first summer girlfriend; Beverly, also a blonde, first couple months of Sophomore year; and the latest one was actually Nadine."

"Really," she actually seems surprised, "You and Nadine?"

He nods, "Yeah, we lasted for a while, actually."

"Wow, never would have expected that."

He just grins, "Yeah. So, what about you?"

She smirks at him, "What about me?"

He rolls his eyes playfully, "Did you see anyone while you were away?"

She shrugs, "Eh, Wolfgang for a _long_ time-"

"Wolfgang?" Arnold asks incredulously.

She chuckles, "Down boy." He scoffs at her, and she continues with a tiny smirk, "Yeah, but it never really go serious. We just sort of stuck together to have someone, you know?" He nods, that's what it was like with Nadine. "Anyways, since we were off and on before he ran off to New York," she laughs at Arnold's look of surprise. "He's actually an artistic genius, graffiti art mostly. Fucking delinquent. However, first there was this guy, Ethan, who I was seeing for a little while. We didn't last very long, and that's when Wolfgang and I started. Brian, the middle summer of Freshman year, when Wolfgang and I were 'off' because he wanted to start a band." She stops to roll her eyes. "He came back, of course, and we got back together for a while when school started back up again. Then Wolfgang broke up with me for about six weeks and ran away to God knows where, and while he was gone I was with Sam. The big one, other than Wolfgang, was Andy though. The last half of Sophomore year."

Arnold raises an eyebrow, "Why's that?"

A small, wistful smile works it's way across her face, and Arnold feels the tiniest stab of jealousy, but brushes it aside. "Don't know, there was just something about him."

There's a brief pregnant pause, before Arnold says, "Well, are you and Wolfgang off for good now?"

She nods, "Yeah, but we're trying to be friends. We write all the time, and I lost my virginity to the fucker, so it's kind of hard to get rid of him." Arnold stops short, and Helga seems amused with his flustered state. She chuckles at him, "Still a virgin, eh?"

He shakes his head, "No, uh, covered that with Rachel. I just didn't think you would've," he looks away, a little embarrassed, "you know. With Wolfgang, at least."

She shrugs, "We weren't really the kind of couple to wait."

He nods, he sort of understands. His relationship with Rachel was strictly hands on. His Grandpa used to joke that they'd completely forgotten the meaning of the words 'public decency'. Arnold was always more bothered by it than Rachel. The girl's a free spirit, and even though they didn't work out he still admires that about her.

Still, he wonders just how much Wolfgang and Helga were like he and Rachel. If Wolfgang snuck into her window once like he'd snuck into Rachel's. More than likely they didn't bother with sneaking around, and if they did it probably happened more than once. Helga's always been quite daring, and Wolfgang just does whatever he pleases.

They get into a pattern, talking about music. He's surprised that her taste is so varied, even if she has an obvious preference towards punk and punk inspired music. She mentions a few artists he's never heard of, and lights up when she explains them. He can't help but smile at her expressions, her unabashed enthusiasm about the music. He feels like he's met an entirely new person, but with the comfort and familiarity of someone he's known for years. He likes Helga's new look, but more than that he likes her new attitude. He can actually see himself being friends with her, and this prospect pleases him.

They catch up with Gerald and Phoebe, and Helga casually mentions that she and Phoebe are having a movie night. Phoebe lights up with a wide grin, "Oh! I almost forgot!" She steps back to look at Gerald and Arnold, "Would you like to join in on our movie night on Friday? We all bring in a movie, put our names in a hat, and watch them as the names are drawn."

"We're pretty nerdy about it," Helga admits with one of her smirks that Arnold's already starting to go a little crazy over, "We debate the movies. Like, we pause the movies and yell at each other for ten minutes, forget where we were, rewind, and do that for about four hours before the damn thing is actually finished." She shakes her head, sharing a knowing smirk and small chuckle with Phoebe. "It's fun, but we have to start _really_ early or it doesn't work out."

"Yes," Phoebe nods excitedly, "it's a rather new tradition for us, but so far we like it."

"Sounds neat," Arnold says pleasantly, watching Helga tug her shirt away from her body to fan herself. His eyes are caught on her cleavage when he says, "Who's all a part of it?"

"Sid, Curly, Pheebs, and Brainy. So far anyways." She gives him a lopsided grin, leaning against a building while she continues to fan herself. "I want to get this girl, Sasha, involved though. She has great taste."

"Oh yes," Phoebe snickers in an uncharacteristic display of mischief, "Helga's most recent girl crush."

"Hey, the girl reads Sedaris, watches the Daily Show and the Colbert Report, and loves Kevin Smith. She can have me any day," Helga says, pretending to swoon.

Arnold grins while Gerald and Helga talk about her Girl Crush a bit more. He likes this, her ease with being around people. Whatever Olga did worked wonders, she's much more relaxed now. A bit of panic rises when he thinks that Wolfgang, and this Andy guy, might have played a big part of her personality adjustment. He brushes it off, figuring that, while Andy might have, Wolfgang probably just made her a little better adept at hiding her irritation or anger with people.

Gerald points out that, instead of actually going into the building to eat, the four of them are just standing around the pizzeria. Helga makes a crack about Gerald's famously tall hair being a beacon for food, and he returns it with a snarky grin and quip about her skateboard. Phoebe chuckles behind her hand, evidently enjoying the emerging playfulness between Gerald and Helga. Arnold certainly finds it refreshing, them constantly joking with each other rather than being at each other's throats. While Helga and Gerald practically trample each other trying to get into the pizzeria, Phoebe and Arnold hang back. Phoebe smiles at him, "Well, they're certainly getting along."

"Yeah," Arnold dons his own wistful smile, "looks like it."

* * *

/

* * *

He's staring, and he's a little ashamed at himself for doing so, but it's really hard not to. It's dark out, Helga keeps a respectful distance while she smokes, but Arnold sees her occasionally take a half step closer to him. He's watching her lips tighten around the cigarette, her skin, tan and healthy, light up by a combination of the cherry of her cigarette and the occasional street lamp. She talks to him about her old school, her 'makeshift friends'. He nods, but he's only half listening while his eyes are trained on her lips, her legs, the small bits of her hips ribs and abdomen revealed by her tank top. He has to force himself to not look at her neck, or her breasts, and dear god is it difficult.

He knows that their houses are closest to each other, and that Gerald and Phoebe wanted alone time, but he really shouldn't have offered to walk her home. He feels guilty, staring at her like this, even more so that she seems totally unaware. If she could call him on it, he wouldn't feel so bad, but he's being uncharacteristically sneaky about it. Sometimes, when she moves her hands while she talks, he sees snippets of her bullying days. Rather than shrink back, he grins, and he has to stop himself from taking a tiny half step closer to her.

He gathers up the courage to think about asking her why she went to Olga when she very subtly remarks that she's not quite ready to turn in. "Well, let's lap around again. I've been wondering a few things anyways."

"Oh," she smirks, and dear god she's quite fond of that isn't she, "like what?"

He stares at the ground for a few seconds, before determinedly meeting her bright, bright blue eyes and saying, "Why _did_ you move in with Olga?"

She's quite for a few seconds, a soft smile just barely gracing her features while she calmly flicks her cigarette to the ground. "Oh," she chuckles softly as she lights another one, "_that_."

She seems shaky this time around, her fingers twitching a bit, her eyes flickering nervously while she gives him a timid smile. He rests a hand on her shoulder, a little offended when she doesn't react. "You don't have to tell me," he says softly.

She shakes her hand, shifting a bit closer to him, exhales smoke with a little sigh and says, "Nah, it's just." She sighs again, and her tone shifts from tight and a bit nervous to amusement edged with irritation, "It's a long story."

He nods his head in the direction of his own house, "We can talk on the way to the Packard."

Her lips curve so softly he almost doesn't even see it, but something tugs at his chest when he does notice it. He shrugs it off, motioning for her to continue her story, and she does so with a playful eye roll. "Well," she drawls, "it all started in middle school, sixth grade to be exact. Remember when I finally had enough of that little prick Evelynne?" He nods, he remembers quite vividly how acidic their relationship was. "Yeah, well, after I exploded in a passionate show of anger and many other things I'm still going to refuse to talk about, the principal convinced my parents to make me see Dr. Bliss again for the rest of the year."

"The child psychiatrist?" He expects her to wince at the phrase like she used to, but she just shook her head.

"She decided to 'grow up' with me, so to speak." She shakes her head, smiling fondly, "Brilliant, that woman. Anyways, so, as you know I spent the rest of that year in therapy. As most people do not know, I continued to see her for the rest of middle school. We talked about my home life far more than I was comfortable, particularly my relationship with Olga. We'd already decided that my parents were-" She stalls, frowning, and taking an extra long drag from her cigarette. She sighs while she exhales, "well, are, not the best." Her eyes shift downwards for a brief second, and he feels his chest tighten and ache in an all to familiar way while she chews the inside of her cheek.

"So, she just had you talk about Olga?"

Helga nods, picking up her original speed, "More than Bob and Miriam anyways." She scrunches her face, squinting as she tries to figure out exactly where they are. "Uh," she quirks her mouth while she stares at the four-way stop they've come to. "Where exactly do we go now?"

"Oh, straight ahead, then the next left," he ducks ahead to make sure there are no cars, and when he's deemed it safe he motions for Helga to follow him. They simply run across the street, Helga trying to keep her skateboard from banging around too much. He stops, frowns at her when she reaches him. "Helga, I can help with that if you want."

She stares at him, confused, "What?" He grins, points to the skateboard, and tries not to let his grin get any wider when she looks at him, bewildered and horrified. "Absolutely not," she cuddles the skateboard, "this thing is my baby."

He rolls his eyes, "Okay, let's go tandem then." She blinks at him, and he sighs, "It'll be easier than you trying not to hurt it while running." She sort of nods and shrugs at the same time, "It'll also probably be faster."

She sucks in her cheeks before letting the board down, "Okay," she says as she steps on the back, "but you sit bitch." He frowns at her, and she smirks, "Figuratively, Arnoldo, you'll retain your manhood, I promise."

He grins while he gets on the front, trying very hard not to lose his balance, "I thought bitch was in the back."

"Well," she muses while she places a careful hand on his hip, "with a skateboard, bitch is in the front. If you think about it, it makes more sense."

He laughs, "Whatever you say, Helga."

"Yeah," he doesn't just hear her snicker, but feels her chest vibrate against his back while they surge forward and she gets closer. "Anyways, where was I?"

"Dr. Bliss, Olga," he calmly reminds her as they make the rather tight left turn.

"Oh right, right." She taps his other hip with her free hand, and he extends his leg to help her push. "Well, we mainly talked about Olga, and her _many_ accomplishments."

"We have to make this next right," Arnold says calmly.

While they turn, her grip tightens, nails digging into his hip, and something stirs in his stomach. She laughs, the sound lighter, more relaxed than he remembers. "Dr. Bliss made me take another intelligence aptitude test, and required that Olga take one as well. However, this one was tweaked with a more psych angle."

"And," Arnold gently prods.

"Well, as per-usual, Olga scored _very_ well." He can practically hear the smirk she dons while she continues, "However, I still scored a lot higher than she would have at my age. I was almost on-par with where she was then."

"Did you tell your parents," he doesn't see her shake her head, but he still knows she does.

"Nah. Ang, Dr. Bliss's first name is Angelica by the way, wanted to tell them. I talked her out of it. Olga, however, _had_ to be told, and needless to say she was shocked." She snickers, "It's still the quietest I've ever seen her." She pauses, and there's a new softness to how she carries on. "When she did talk, I was kind of surprised. She was really, well, _proud_. She told Bob and Miriam, and it was the first time I've ever seen them brush her off like that. They said the psychiatrist made some sort of mistake. Olga just let them talk, but she didn't stop holding my hand."

He tries to look back at her, and manages to catch the barest of glimpses of her silhouette. "Why was she holding your hand?"

Helga shrugs, "I don't know, theatrics I suppose." She stops, slowing them down, and Arnold helps. "It's this one, right?"

They look up at the old building, which hasn't seemed to age a day. He nods, "Yeah, we'll just go around back to the Packard."

She squints, picking up her skateboard, "It's a little dark out."

Without thinking, he grabs onto her wrist, and sends her a semi-nervous grin while he guides her towards the backyard. "Just follow me."

"Okay," her voice is softer somehow, "where was I?"

"Olga, hand holding," he replies calmly, opening the fence gate and helping her walk past it.

"Right, right. Anyways, after all that she was different around me. She was always checking up on what I was reading, getting on me about school work, trying to talk to me about art literature movies or just whatever was going on in my life at the time." She stumbles over a rock while they walk towards the Packard, Arnold catches her, and he's dizzy with her sweet, fresh scent. She's so warm, and unbelievably soft. His hand squeezes her wrist comfortably, while the other rests on her lower back. She has her skateboard artfully angled away from them, one hand on his chest clutching the fabric of his shirt. "Thanks," she mumbles.

"Any time," he grins.

He swears he sees her lips curl into the most graceful smile he's ever seen for a brief second. "Right, so, Olga was trying to get really involved in my life." She barely pushes away from him, still letting his hand linger on her wrist and back, but not allowing herself to be pressed into his chest anymore. He sighs a bit, taking the last few steps to the Packard and opening the door, allowing Helga to climb in.

He slides in on the drivers side, grinning at Helga while he shuts the door, "You can smoke in here if you'd like."

"You sure," she asks slowly, warily.

He nods, gesturing to the old handle to roll down the window, "You don't have to roll down the window, though."

She grins at him, reaching over and cranking the handle to roll the window down. She leans back against the seat, a little close for comfort, and pulls out her pack of cigarettes. Arnold deliberately looks away, as the angle she's sitting at reveals quite a bit of her cleavage, and well, he's gentleman. Helga doesn't seem to notice, and Arnold's pleasantly distracted by the way the cigarette lights up the front seat. Helga, and parts of the car and Arnold, are awash in a pale cherry light. "I have completely forgotten where I was." she admits with a sheepish smirk, scooting a bit closer to him.

"Uh," he scoots closer as well, letting his arm rest up on the seat while he shifts so that, should Helga get any closer, she'll be cradled to his side and not on his lap. "Olga, hand holding, forced sisterly bonding."

She nods, "Right, right. Well, we were talking a lot, getting surprisingly close, and I started talking to Ang about it. Well, Ang said I should just trust my instincts, and do whatever I felt was necessary. One day, Olga and I were talking about how mom and dad treat me, and she said that after the aptitude test and getting to know me better, she really couldn't stand them that much." Helga pauses for a moment, giving a small yawn and scooting even closer to Arnold, "She had this look on her face, guilt and pleasure. She just looked, well, normal. It just sort of clicked that mom and dad weren't working out, Olga and I were, so why shouldn't I just live with her. So I asked her, and she was really quiet for a second. Then she squealed, because she's Olga, hugged me, and started talking about how much fun we would have."

She shivers a bit, and Arnold decides to gently tug her towards him, letting her lean into his side. She stiffens at his touch, but eventually relaxes and lets herself stay there. "Did your parents say anything?"

She shakes her head, "Nah, not really. They congratulated her on being responsible and she actually cringed." Helga laughs, "It was great, they pretended not to notice. I just sort of packed up and moved in over summer vacation. I met up with Wolfgang again that summer, and we got to be friends. Olga liked him, surprisingly, and I liked his music." She lets a goofy half smile drift across her face, almost like she can't help herself, "It was fun. Really, really fun." She looks up at Arnold, "I mean, not all the time though." She looks back down, out the window, "Olga was really anal about keeping the place clean, the neighbors work schedules were fucked up and that was annoying as hell to deal with. Plus, Wolfgang alternated on which one of us he was flirting with. Stupid fucker." She scoffs, "Ultimately though, it was _so_ much better than Miriam and Bob." She lowers her voice, "I'm actually really dreading going back."

"Yeah," Arnold shifts, tightening the spaces between them, and nearly stops breathing at the sight of her under the light of the moon and her cigarette. It's beautiful, the way the soft vaguely blue light makes her look ethereal, calm, and soft, and the cherry red makes her look devious and sexy. "I've been meaning to ask, why did you come back to Bob and Miriam?"

She shifts, yawning, "One of the neighbors got mad enough to call the cops. They decided that Olga wasn't quite ready to handle me, and as my parents are my legal guardians still, that I should go back with them. Olga cried, a lot, and the neighbor got an earful from Ang and myself; but in the end we're not really allowed to decide what the legal system deems just."

The silence is heavy and awkward. Arnold licks his lips nervously, tapping his fingers along the back of the seat. "That... sucks, Helga."

She snorts, "Well, no shit Arnoldo."

He grins nervously, "So, uh, now you're back then?"

She nods, popping the ashtray out and stubbing out her cigarette. "Looks like it," she says with another yawn, "And as much as I hate to go back, I'm getting kind of tired."

"Oh," he squirms a bit, a little too pleased that she still makes no effort to leave, "I'll walk you home."

She shrugs, "Alright, but you don't have to."

He feels like the both of them are avoiding the inevitable conclusion that she doesn't have to go home, that her parents aren't going to ask questions whenever she does decide to go home. "Well," he clears his throat, "you could just stay here, if you wanted."

She looks up at him, a half smirk planted on her face, "Maybe another time Arnoldo, I should probably go home for tonight though."

She starts climbing out of the car, and though he sort of lunges after her he can't really stop her. She's already out, the door still open behind her, while he fumbles for the right words. "Helga, I can still walk you home." He hears the hiss of her lighter, the soft inhale and exhale, and sees the bright flame of her cigarette while he speaks.

She pops her head back in, still wearing that damnable half smirk, a new cigarette between her lips. She chuckles at him, "I've been doing this since I was three, Arnold, I think I've got a hold of it by now." She salutes him in the form of a peace sign, winking and picking up her skateboard, "Later, Football head." He hears her trot across the yard, a sharp howl of laughter as the wheels of her skateboard slap against the pavement and she hurries off. He manages to make it out front just in time to see her turning the corner, leaning back on her board seemingly without a care in the world.

He sighs, heads up into his house quietly. He makes sure to lock the door behind him before he trudges up the stairs. He enters his room, still relatively the same as it was when he was a kid. He falls onto his bed, pulling his phone out of the front pocket of his jeans. He quickly thumbs a message to Gerald on his keyboard.

Arnold: So, Helga's... different.

It's a few minutes before he gets his reply, but he's still a little shocked that Gerald reads him so well.

Gerald: man u like her, dont u?

Arnold: Don't know, I feel like I've just met her.

Gerald: well you better figure it out quick lol

Arnold sighs, smiling faintly while he remembers the conversation they had. The way she looked, the small, soft smiles she occasionally offered.

Arnold: I'll keep you posted.

Gerald: like u have a choice

Arnold chuckles, sending a goodnight message and turning his phone off. He picks up the remote to his room, turning of his lights and sighing to himself. He really could end up liking Helga at this rate. Oddly enough, the thought is more amusing than anything else.

* * *

**A/N:** I've had the unshakable urge to write some funny, angsty, sweet, and maybe a little confused Hey Arnold! Fanfiction. Mainly of the Arnold/Helga persuasion. They are probably the only OTP I have that is actually an OTP. Well, they are definitely my most withstanding OTP. Anyways, review, respond, and, hopefully, enjoy.

Also, I'm just going to use the title of whatever song I listened to the most while writing as the chapter title. Since a lot of this story will involve music, talking about it, listening to it, dancing to it, along with other activities. Deal with it. Or don't, whatever.

One day I'll tackle Helga's perspective. I'm waiting until I feel I'll do her justice.

Title may change.


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